John teh Unicron
by AssassinOfRome
Summary: Crack-fic. John is called to look after a hyper Sherlock & Lestrade. Inspired by Madame Seabush's Jack teh unicron in Doctor Who. Most of the dialogue is from Charlie teh Unicron 2 so blame that. No slash but Lestrade might seem gay. Rated T for language.


John had just boiled the kettle when the phone rang. It was Sally on the end.

"I think you need to come down to the Yard. We need some medical advice."

At this, John scurried down the stairs, shouted an apology to Mrs Hudson that no, he couldn't watch Jeremy Kyle with her like he did every Saturday and flagged the nearest cab. In his hurry to see what was wrong, he threw the driver a twenty and rushed out of the cab that had cost him £6.90. The driver wasn't complaining. Sally was waiting outside Scotland Yard, peering round in earnest, looking for John.

"It's Sherlock and Lestrade. They're hyper. We've never seen them like this. Yeah, Sherlock gets excited when he gets cases but he is literally bouncing of the walls. Lestrade's gone nuts too. I think they must have been drugged by the suspect they met up with earlier. We want to know if they'll die. I don't want them to die." Her big brown eyes bored into John's similar ones. This was the most caring he had ever seen her. It scared the good doctor. He opened the door to Lestrade's office. The next morning, he wished he hadn't.

"Woo. Spring break!" cried Sherlock.

"We just stole this boat." Lestrade added, holding up a small replica of the Titanic that was usually on his keys. Reminder of his Navy days, John guessed.

"Why would you steal a boat?"

"Who cares? God." Sherlock whined, sounding like an irritated child. He turned to face his flatmate with an eager look on his face. John noticed his pupils were slightly enlarged.

"I have an idea. What if we all made out?" Lestrade came and stood next to Sherlock. Silence fell. Even Sherlock, whose boundless energy had been activated, stood still and stared at the DI.

"Well fine."

"John, we need to find the banana king."

"The banana king?" John asked incredulously.

"That dude's been selling candy in our street."

"I…I...I'd rather not get involved."

"Oh you're involved John." Sherlock's tone became threatening. Being on the wrong side of Sherlock normally was terrifying. But Hyper Sherlock? He didn't want to think about it. It was too scary. That and half the Yard was in the room and John didn't know whether to look worried or piss himself laughing. He nearly couldn't hold back the giggles when Gabriel dropped the boat. His and Sherlock's reactions were hilarious. Their eyes went wide and they jumped at least 2 foot in the air.

"Holy Jesus!" Sherlock cursed.

"You see John. He knows we're coming."

"Yeah John. We're going to war. We're going to war!"

Sherlock fled from the room with the police officer behind him. John hesitated but followed the pair. He didn't want to think about what would happen to them in this state. Sally stood dumbfounded in the corridor that her crazy friends ran down.

"See what I mean." She called to John. She hoped he had heard her.

…...

Sherlock, Lestrade and John stood outside Mycroft's residence. It was quite far from Scotland Yard and John hoped against hope that they had burnt of some steam. It didn't appear to be so.

"BANANA KING! GET YOUR UGLY FACE OUT HERE!" Sherlock bellowed.

Mycroft appeared at the window. His brown eyes were wider than usual. Oh shit, they got him too.

"Yo! What d'you want?"

"We want you to stop being an asshole!" Lestrade's tone of voice was almost as cutting as his remark. Sherlock looked at him with pride.

"What? I'm not being an asshole! You being an asshole!" Mycroft replied. John thought he was being very unprofessional. Sherlock seemed to think so too.

"You being the asshole." This was probably, no, The Most Childish Debate he had ever been in. Thank God the paparazzi weren't here. But that hadn't stopped him recording the whole argument on his phone. The Holmes brothers already had enough to blackmail him with. This was revenge. Childish revenge yes, but revenge none the less.

"I said I ain't being an asshole. But you too are definitely being assholes."

"John tell him what an asshole he's being." John was very surprised. He didn't hear the DI curse much and when he did, he had a very good reason for it. Like someone dying. Or Sherlock being a jerk.

"I want no part in this."

"See? That guy is not an asshole." Mycroft gestured to his brother's best friend.

"That's it. I'm tired of this, asshole." Sherlock growled.

"We're coming for you banana king."

…..

The door to Mycroft's home cracked and fell down, exposing his insane brother and his bonkers mate for all to see. They were firing shotgun bullets everywhere. John hoped they didn't hit anything.

_Where did they even get guns?_ John wondered as he ran up the steps.

"Try to sell candy in my street, will you?" Sherlock shouted. Most of his words were lost as he fired the gun and hit the wall behind Mycroft, who had pulled a pistol out of nowhere.

"Free market economy, man. You'll need to learn some economics!"

"Well you need to learn some DIE!" Lestrade yelled and fired his gun at Mycroft's shoulder. It grazed it and hit his red velvet armchair. The politician fell to the ground.

"OW! I am bleeding banana blood!" screamed Mycroft.

"Yeah! Spring break!" cried the lucky shot. He put his gun down. Sherlock followed suit.

"I'm done with this. Lets go to Denny's."

…..

"What the hell is a grand-slamwhich?" Sherlock asked the woman, who looked more like a man, who was serving the four of them. They were all holding menus, Mycroft with some difficulty seeing as his arm was in a sling.

"That's everything that comes to the grand slam put inside a sandwich instead."

"That sounds really nasty." The DI added.

"They're very popular." The woman drawled.

"Well, I'm gonna have some pancakes." Sherlock decided and folded his menu and placed it on the table.

"I'll put you down for a grand-slamwhich." The woman said, scribbling on her notepad.

"I said I want pancakes, woman."

"You're all getting grand-slamwhiches. They're very popular."

The consulting detective, the DI, the good doctor and the politician looked horrified.

"Aw. I don't want that crap." Mycroft moaned.

"You get 2 eggs, some sausage, some bacon, some ham, mayonnaise, cheese and maple spread all inside a sandwich." The woman noted, sounding extremely like Peter Griffin.

"That sounds awful." Gabriel winced.

"God Dammit, I want my pancakes." Sherlock cried.

"I could slip some pancakes inside your grand-slamwhich." The waitress suggested.

"EWWWWWWW!" Sherlock wailed, turning white at the thought of it. Suddenly a random explosion of fire streaked through the restaurant.

"Whoa." A startled John mumbled. Lestrade began to giggle.

"Oh no way." He laughed.

"That crap's still burning!" Sherlock smiled.

"That is from like…last episode. How is that still going?" The DI questioned.

John didn't even want to know what happened last time. Sally's warning echoed in the back of his mind.

"See what I mean?"


End file.
